


Closing walls and ticking clocks

by Lady_Michiru



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol make them do it, Angst, Changing Point Of View, Cheating, Chinen being Chinen, Daiki is everyone's mom, Drunken Consent, F/M, I love you Inoo xD, I regret everything, Implied underage smoking, Inoo gets ONE line and fucks everything up, Jealousy, Lots of alcohol, M/M, Mentions of heterosexual relationship(s), Non-Linear Narrative, Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Yamada is kind of an asshole in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 15:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Michiru/pseuds/Lady_Michiru
Summary: Chinen needs new friends, Daiki needs to chill, and so does Yamada.Maybe Inoo needs to shut up.Yuto has a girlfriend.Yamada has a problem.None of them knows quite how to cope.





	Closing walls and ticking clocks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [h_itoshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/gifts).



> Dear Recipient, I am a big fan of your work and I was super nervous about this assignment. Someday I plan to write a fic you really deserve. For now, please accept this unfinished work. I hope you can enjoy it. Thanks to all my hand-holders, without you, life doesn't happen the same way.

**Now...**

Chinen lets out a tired sigh after Yamada is finally done talking. It’s late, and even if they don’t have work the next day, Chinen would rather be sleeping. He should have changed his friends for others, who don’t mess up so much and do let him sleep, but he supposes it’s too late now. After more than ten years he’s stuck with them. Especially with the one that’s currently breaking down into a pile of conflicting emotions in his kitchen.

He sighs again.

“If you are here instead of going to Daichan it’s because you need that someone calls you an idiot. So I’m gonna do just that,” Chinen says, his words meaning to reprimand but sounding soft. “You’re an idiot.”

Yamada doesn’t even react. His eyes are fixed on the glass of water in front of him, his thoughts unreadable. He looks pale, dark circles under his eyes even if the worst of the hangover should be gone by now.

There’s silence. And Chinen doesn’t have a wall clock so he doesn’t know how many hours drag by without Yamada uttering any word. He asks the question that’s been roaming his mind for a while now, just to break the silence.

“What were you thinking?”

It’s rhetorical, but Yamada answers it all the same.

“I wasn’t,” Yamada says, his voice rough, like he was waking up from a particularly fond nightmare. “I was drunk.”

“You’re better than this, Ryosuke,” Chinen says then, through his teeth. He’s angry, and some portion of Yamada’s head —the one that wasn’t poisoned to death with alcohol the night before, Chinen supposes— may rejoice in that, judging by the way his mouth quirks, almost wanting to smile.

But there’s also hurt in those red rimmed eyes.

“There are things you don’t know,” Yamada says, lowering his gaze.

*****

**Two days ago…**

It was in Daiki’s best interest to keep Yuto out of trouble.

Last time he got into a scandal they were all but grounded by the management and Daiki had to refrain from going out on dates with Mayuchan for almost a month before things calmed down enough and the press took them out of their Most Wanted list. Mayuchan still had something to say about that one, even now.

It wasn’t really a lecture, at least it wasn’t intended as one —Inoo’s dry, “You’re not his mother,” comment notwithstanding. It was more of a plea.

“All I’m saying is that Yuto should be careful,” he explained, to Inoo and Yuto, while both of them rolled their eyes at him.

“This is not scandal material, Daichan. He said so himself. This time is serious.” Inoo’s smile could mean anything from incredulity to real happiness, but Daiki knew him better than most people. That’s why he wasn’t surprised at all when Inoo added, “No need to make the boy practice putting condoms on bananas, if the girl gets pregnant he’s prepared to tie the knot.”

Daiki expected Yuto’s high pitched laughter, and the slap on Inoo’s shoulder; Yuto’s attempt at a scandalized expression. But the voice he heard from behind him, that was unexpected and unnerving as hell.

There was an old sofa in the breakroom, and all of them had used it one time or another to take a quick power nap. That someone was using it then wasn’t the problem.

“You’re too loud,” Yamada said, his voice a hot white knife sliding through Diki’s spine, from the back of his neck and down, turning his soul in a trembling pool of worry.

He wanted to ask Yamada how much of the conversation he had heard, but that became redundant in less than a second. The charged look Yuto and Yamada shared told Daiki everything he didn’t want to know.

“You were not supposed to find out like this,” he thought, but he couldn’t say it out loud.

*****

**Last night…**

Yamada could blame it on the alcohol, but that would be adding hypocrisy to the list of mistakes he was consciously making.

In his defense, the party had been scheduled months ago. That was, at least, not his doing. And he hadn’t planned Yuto to actually attend, either. Traditionally, Seven’s meet-ups used to be a three-person affair. But now, with one member on the other side of the world, even the antisocial nature of Yuto had fallen victim to the guilt of standing them up. It was nice when they did manage to arrange a date with the three of them off work. Sometimes they even put Keito on Skype.

That night there was not Skype.

They had gathered at Yuto’s place, a classy apartment in a nice residential neighborhood. The tall walls and ceiling-to-floor polarized windows suited him, as did the furniture. All steel, dark glass, and pretentiousness. Quintessentially Yuto.

It was a video games and conbini food kind of night. The contrast with the carpeted floor and modern-looking decor bordered on surreal.

Yamada knew Yuto wasn’t too good at holding his booze. He could deal with a couple of beers, but harder liquors were his kryptonite. And Yamada had been refilling Yuto’s glass every time it got three quarters empty. All night.

He tried to convince himself he had no ulterior motives, just a friendly gesture on a friendly night. Friends. Harmless fun. He had become so good at lying to himself he almost believed it for a while.

By midnight he was drunk too. Chinen was sleeping, and Yuto was out to the balcony for a smoke, but Yamada was patient. Heat rode his veins at every pump of his accelerating heart, so he dug his eyes on his cellphone, pretending to read some mails to calm down. And he waited.

Eventually Yuto came back, and strode right to the bathroom to wash his hands, a useless habit, born out of fear of discovery when he was too young to be allowed to smoke but did it anyway. Yamada cursed himself for knowing Yuto so well as he stood up and followed him.

Yuto bent down easily when Yamada’s arms encircled his neck; gravity always pulled them together. Maybe that was why Yamada had never been able to actually get over his feelings for Yuto, even though all their attempts at being together had ended in catastrophe.

“Yamachan? What—” Yuto tried to ask, but Yamada’s lips halted him, swallowing his words along with his breath.

The bitter aftertaste of cigarettes and gin and tonic invaded Yamada’s mouth along with Yuto’s tongue. The same relieved sigh Yuto made every time they kissed rang in Yamada’s ears, fueling his hunger. It always felt like Yuto was waiting for him, holding out his breath and finally able to breathe when they touched like this.

Yamada lost no time. He pushed Yuto back into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. 

There was something familiar in the cold feeling of the tiles under Yamada's knees, in the giddiness numbing his fingers as he struggled to unfasten Yuto's jeans. There was alcohol in his system, and that was partly to blame, but Yuto’s hands —one resting at Yamada’s shoulder, the other sifting encouragingly through his hair— and his hitched breath were also a type of poison, intoxicating and dizzying.

Yuto was already half hard by the time Yamada was done lowering his jeans, the scent of his arousal heady, and he breathed deeply before dragging Yuto’s designer underwear down. His eyes glued to Yuto’s, giving him a last chance to stop them.

It didn’t happen.

“Ryosuke…” Yuto whispered, a desecrated prayer as Yamada took him into his mouth.

Yamada remembered this taste, this feeling. The pulsing flesh and Yuto’s bitten moans. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by, how much time and hostility separated them from this moment of bliss. Yamada’s body remembered.

He teased, sucking slowly, his tongue making a show of twisting and grinding against Yuto’s cock, spit making the exposed skin glisten. Then harder, and deeper, when Yuto couldn’t take it anymore and his fingers pulled hard on Yamada’s hair, guiding his rhythm.

He sucked hard on the tip, then let Yuto thrust into his mouth, feeling him at the back of his throat. He moaned, excited and hot, his own throbbing hardness pushing against his tight jeans, desperate for attention.

Then, Yuto spoke.

“Stop.”

Yamada didn’t want to listen, but Yuto’s push on his shoulders was as strong as the desperation in his face.

“Please.” Yamada wasn’t above pleading, not this late into the game. “Yuto, please.” Moaning, as he darted his tongue out to rub Yuto’s tip on it.

For a moment he thought he’d won, then Yuto pushed him away again, harder this time. Yamada lost his balance and landed on his butt, and he tried to look aggravated to hide his shock and his disappointment. But Yuto didn’t look at him as he pulled his clothes up with trembling and clumsy hands. Precome and saliva left wet spots in Yutos boxers and Yamada wanted him back in his mouth, wanted him so fucking much.

“Not like this.” Yuto crouched down when his clothes were more or less in order. His eyes shone with unspent lust and Yamada felt its siren’s call in his bones.

“Why?”

But Yuto just stood up and shook his head. Yamada refused the hand he offered to help him get up, and didn’t look at Yuto as he exited the bathroom. 

Chinen was still sleeping soundly when Yamada donned his jacket and took his bag. Black face-mask, dark glasses even in the middle of the night, and a knitted cap. Yamada didn’t turn around to see if Yuto was still watching when he stormed out of the apartment.

He stopped the taxi midway home. There weren’t enough drinks in his apartment, and he wasn’t drunk enough to sleep.

*****

**Now…**

Yamada’s done with his glass of water and Chinen doesn’t have anything else to offer in terms of food or beverages. The conbini is two blocks away, but he has the feeling Yamada would refuse any food he could get there just as he refused Chinen’s offer of instant noodles a couple of hours ago.

He opts for just refilling Yamada’s glass with more filtered water, even if what he thinks he needs right now is more alcohol. He won’t be getting any from him, though. 

“Won’t you ask me why I did it?”

“That’s not for me to ask, Ryosuke.” Chinen’s tired. “I’m mad, and you need me to be mad because, deep down, you need someone to judge you.”

“When did you become a self-help book?” Yamada says, and his chuckle, though broken, tells Chinen that this will be okay. His friend is still there, under all that need for guilt, all that stupidity, and every little thing that hit the fan every time things were about Yuto. Yamada will be alright. Eventually.

“I’ve been watching you idiots dance around each other for more than a decade, it’s past due I got some wisdom out of it.”

Yamada drinks two more glasses of water, then helps Chinen set up the sofa for him to sleep. He dresses down to his boxers and an oversized Arashi tee Chinen lends him as nightwear. He even begins to think he’d be able to sleep tonight.

But then, as Chinen is leaving for his own room, he suddenly stops.

“Ryosuke…?”

Yamada feels the pitch of his stomach freeze. He knows what’s next, and even if he brought it up before, a part of him was sure that Chinen wouldn’t actually ask the question.

“Do you even know why you did it?”

He doesn’t want to lie, not to Chinen. If he’s been using him as a shoulder to cry on, if Chinen has even agreed to act like it when Yamada doesn’t deserve it, he owns him the truth. Or as close to it as he can get.

“I was jealous.”

“This has happened before. She’s not Yuto’s first girlfriend after you two—”

“It’s different,” Yamada says, interrupting Chinen not to hear about that. About the last time they tried. And failed. “She’s different.”

“Because Daiki says so?” Yamada doesn’t need to look at Chinen to see his raised eyebrow and his sardonic grimace.

“Maybe.”

“You’re really an idiot, you know?” Chinen’s voice sounds smug, but caring. The tone is one Yamada has known all his life. It’s the tone that says Chinen’s a genius, and Yamada’s a fool. “She isn’t different. She isn’t _you_.”

Chinen cuts the lights and leaves before Yamada can even think of a reply.


End file.
